


Of Risks and Gift-Giving

by Rowaine



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Cheesy, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3614490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowaine/pseuds/Rowaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How to court a reluctant vampire in seven easy lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Risks and Gift-Giving

**Title:** Of Risks and Gift-giving  
**Author:** Rowaine  
**Rating:** NC-17 by request.  
**Warnings:** Babble, schmoop, the Waltz of One Hundred Morons, and silliness. This is not supposed to be taken seriously! Also, I don't like the way it ends, but I'm too damned tired to do anything about it just now. Posted without beta, as usual.  
**Pairings:** Spander  
**Setting:** Late S4, somewhere well before the wedding-that-didn't-happen, AU from there.  
**Summary:** How to court a reluctant vampire in seven easy lessons.  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me except for the questionable plot, which I blame on nash.

**Of Risks and Gift-giving**

On Monday, he found a carton of his brand of smokes just inside the door to his crypt. Spike was no fool -- he grabbed the package and carefully hid it away with his dwindling stash, asking no questions. Whatever idiot had left it there deserved to have it stolen.

On Tuesday, five bottles of assorted liquors waited for him in the same place as he'd found the cigarettes the previous evening. Each were of damned good quality, without being too fancy. The price stickers had been carefully peeled off too. Now some moron leaving their smokes behind he could almost understand, but this was more along the lines of a gift. Tailor-made for him. He shook his head once, hard, and decided to ignore the puzzle in favor of getting properly pissed.

On Wednesday, he immediately glanced in the same spot, finding a six-pack of really good imported beer where he'd half expected it to be. Downing the first bottle with a satisfied sigh, he almost knocked over a brown paper bag beside his 'recovered' recliner. Inside was a selection of bar snacks and two still hot, take away containers holding the Bronze's finest: a blooming onion (with every sauce they carried) and a double order of hotwings. He didn't need solid food to survive, but damn did it hit the spot with a good brew! Sitting down to a fuzzy TV, he gave little attention to the screen as he considered who his mysterious benefactor was. Not that it mattered much -- he wasn't going to turn down his lovely gifts.

On Thursday, he dragged himself back from a fekkin incredible fight, holding together his ripped jeans with one hand, limping with the long tear down his left leg. It hurt like a bitch, but he was feeling little pain; a good spot of violence soothed the predator in ways nothing else could. His tumble-induced euphoria almost made him forget to check for the night's pressie, but there it was: a Lil Igloo cooler, the type blokes used at construction sites, filled to the top with Red Cross packets of outdated human blood. His head spun with conflicting emotions. Someone knew who -- and more importantly what -- he was, knew he needed human blood to maintain his strength, and maybe even knew he'd been injured that night. He couldn't decide if he should be paranoid that someone was watching him, or flattered that they were taking the time to please him like this. Before he came to a conclusion, the pain from his leg hit full force, and he quickly sucked down a half dozen bags. Dragging the cooler down into the relative privacy of his sleeping area, he gave up thinking as the urge to fall into a natural healing sleep became too much to challenge.

On Friday, he woke earlier than usual, cleaned up the mess of his jeans and washed blood and gore off his leg before heading up to watch TV. He'd barely gotten to the top of the ladder when he caught movement in the shadows of his crypt. Creeping silently the last two steps onto the main level, he waited to see who (or what) dared intrude. A quick scenting told him the basics: human, male, nervous, and singed metal. _Wha?_ The man moved quietly, for a human, as he worked a small soldering iron to fix wires together. Now after being around for over a century, Spike had picked up a few things; he wasn't ignorant of electronics. Seemed as if this fella was arranging for 'unauthorized' cable, maybe even fixing up the faulty tube of his tele. Question was: had his secret admirer ordered this, or was something else going on? 

_Soddin hell, not gonna get any answers just standin here like a ponce._ He took one step toward the man, then paused. _Don't wanna scare'im off, not til he's finished. Should let'im get done, yeh?_ He backed up to the ladder, making no noise to distract the human, and retraced his steps. _Wanna know who's been leavin this stuff, but what if... if 'm too nosy an it stops?_ The idea sent a wave of disappointment through him. It'd been a very long time since anyone had thought about _his_ wants, _his_ needs. Hell, whoever kept sending these pressies had taken more than a minute to consider his preferences.

_Gonna turn into some bloody nancy boy! Feck, jus get over it, Spike. So you've got a stalker droppin whiskey and smokes, fixin the tele an bringin blood -- human, at that. So what? For all ya know, could be some sicko wantin vamp parts for a spell. Need ta pay more attention, mate. No tellin what they'll do next._

The pep talk lasted until he heard the crypt's door shut, then he climbed back up to check the repairs to his TV. It faced away from him, but Spike could see how much brighter the pictures flickered against the walls. _Fixed the bloody tube, set me up with cable, an... damn me! left one o'those DVD/VCR players too! That's it, someone wants in me pants._ He jumped the last two feet up, landing neatly next to his recliner. A dozen movies, all ones he'd not seen but wanted to, took up the lumpy seat of his chair, along with a brand new universal remote and another bag of snacks. _Oughta spend some time figurin out who's doin this... an I will... after brekkies. This bloomin onion thing's no good once it's gone cold, an there's still half a cooler of the good stuff. Pop in a flik while I eat, can think on it later._

He inhaled his treats, watched Passions on three different channels, and fell into a _cough_ dead sleep.

Saturday had him running interference between a couple of nasties and the Slayer's gang. What with disposing of the leftover body parts and answering the Watcher's questions, he barely made it back to the crypt before sunrise. He staggered through the door and shoved it closed just as the first deadly rays hit, cussing about ungrateful humans and how much of a chore it was to remove slime from his precious duster. Shrugging out of the goo-covered leather and ruined t-shirt, he flopped into his chair and grabbed the remote. Did he forget to look for another present? No. He just wasn't in the mood for more puzzles. A jabbed finger turned on the tele, and with its flickering light he finally saw the sticky note left on the screen.

_You've had a rough night, haven't you?  
Check downstairs.  
Hope it makes you feel better._

Rough night aside, Spike couldn't stamp down the immediate curiosity inspired by his mystery admirer's note. He left the tele on and slithered down the ladder, on guard but with a building sense of excitement. At first glance he couldn't see anything different to his sleeping area... except that someone had cleaned up a bit. But there it was, in the darkest corner -- a fancy chinese screen, all crimson silk, a few feet from the entrance to the sewers. He couldn't resist the urge to peek behind it, and nearly fell over when he saw the day's gift.

 _Buggerin bat bollocks! 'S one o'those camp showers, drain an all... an a... water heater?_ Dizzy with shock, he leaned against the wall and just stared at the addition to his home. _Can't know how much I crave the heat, no way to know, haven't told anyone cept Dru._ It wasn't a fancy setup -- showerhead bracketed straight onto the crypt wall, no drain (unnecessary with the sloping floor leading straight down to the sewers), and only a half hour's supply of hot water -- but that wasn't the point, now was it. _Gonna drive me barmy, whoever ya are. No one's supposed to know William the Bloody so well._

Almost too unnerved to test out his gift, Spike slowly stripped off his jeans and boots before twisting the hot water on full blast. He let his mind fog over with the steam of the shower, wanting only to be warm for now. All worries could wait while he indulged in one of his most secret vices. _Haven't had this since Harris' basement. Feck, that's **good**! _

Clean and warm for the first time in months, he never made it upstairs to turn off the TV, falling asleep only minutes after crawling under the mound of blankets waiting so enticingly on his bed.

He woke late Sunday afternoon, feeling better than he could remember since before the blasted chip. He stretched catlike, back arched and toes spread wide, forcing every muscle to unwind from the day's hard slumber. Flinging his legs over the side of the bed, he almost knocked over a portable serving tray _No way was that there this mornin!_ piled high with Belgian waffles with whipped cream, hot syrup, fresh fruit, a pot of steaming tea, and a huge thermos of warm blood.

_Gettin bold, aintcha? Not like I'll turn down breakfast in bed, whoever ya are._ He flipped the catch to collapse the tray's legs and pulled it across his lap. Feeling pampered like the Master he was _First time in too long, someone's treatin me right. Dunno if I like'em creepin round uninvited, but... can't say I want'em to stop either_ he finished every last bite, then brought tea and blood upstairs to watch a movie. 

Half an hour before sunset, his concentration was diverted from the screams of a cheesy monster flik by the steady beat of a human heartbeat outside his crypt. _Might be... do I wanna know? Really? What if it's like that story with Cupid an Psyche, where the good stuff goes away once the giver's face is shown... Oh hell!_

His whole body tense, ready to pounce or flee, Spike waited for...

**_Knock Knock_ **

... and wasn't that the strangest part? _Who in their right mind would_ knock _on a vampire's door?!_

**_Knock Knock_ **

_Someone with a death wish maybe. Or a prankster, one of them college boys who get drunk before gettin outa bed._

**_Knock Knock_ **

"Someone damned persistent, s'what," he muttered, shaking his hands loose and ready. He cracked open the door and peered outside, then exhaled in a loud puff. "Harris. Whatcha doin here? Nobody said nothin bout needin me tonight."

Worried eyes darted left, right, behind Spike, then finally met the vampire's stern glare. "Uh hi, Spike. Yeah... just... wanted to see if you needed anything, y'know, after that mess with the big baddies. Not that you're not _The_ Big Bad, but from last night..."

Spike rolled his eyes, wanting nothing more than to thump the babble right out of the boy. Instead, he stepped back and opened the door wide enough to admit one clumsy human. "Shut it and get inside, ya dumb git. Sun's bout down -- don't wanna turn into brekkie for m'early risin neighbors, yeh?"

The 'dumb git' stumbled through the door and promptly tripped over a dust bunny, landing him right at the blond's feet. Xander's face flamed with embarrassment as he scrambled back to an upright position. In a voice too cheery to hide his nerves, he blurted out, "So, what's going on tonight, bleach brain?"

Eyes rolled again, loudly and with great eloquence. Spike turned back toward his chair and flopped into it before answering. "Was in the middle o'somethin, boy. Tell me what's got a bee in yer bonnet, then bugger off, yeh? The main character's bout ta get disemboweled here."

Feet shuffled, a throat cleared, and the human finally found his voice, "Thought maybe you might be interested in a game of pool or something. The girls have dates tonight, so no patrol... Just you and me and a few brews?"

Spike considered the offer with more than a hint of suspicion. Harris had never wanted to 'hang out' with him before, although with the Slayer and Red doing their college bit, he probably felt left out of the loop. Still, if the boy wanted to make things easy and pay for the night's entertainment, why turn him down?

"Yeh, alright. Gimme a mo' ta get boots on, then I'll letcha lose a few games," he said with deliberate taunting, but was disappointed when his comment failed to start an argument. Xander simply nodded his head and turned his attention to looking around the crypt.

Only a few minutes later, they headed out into the early evening. A couple newly risen vamps barely slowed them down en route to the Bronze, giving Spike a pleasant release of violence with the promise of beer and company (even if it was only the boy's) in the immediate future.

Xander claimed a table and started racking the multi-colored balls after pushing a twenty in Spike's hands for their drinks. They played for hours, occassionally teaming up against the few college kids who were so drunk as to challenge an obvious pro at the game. Chuckling at their success in alleviating the weighty wallets of rich brats, they wandered back toward the cemetery.

"Can walk ya home if y'want," Spike offered, shocked at himself. So maybe the boy wasn't that bad for company... when did he start caring about the White Hat's health?

Shaggy brown hair shook a negative. "Nah, thanks though. Not ready to deal with the 'rents yet, y'know? Think I'll just... dunno, take a last sweep or something."

It shouldn't matter. But Harris' blase` attitude about his own safety (and the situation at home) made Spike's skin itch uncomfortably. That was the only reason he could think of for: "Come in an watch a movie with me then?"

The blindingly brilliant smile he received almost made him stumble over a headstone. 

"What's gotten into ya tonight, Harris?" He never acknowledged blokes and their attributes, not since what happened just after he was turned. But damn if that smile wasn't 500 watts of pure happiness. Made him jittery.

Xander's lips twitched into more of a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nothing. Yet." Face flushing around the edges. "Though that could change..."

Even if he knew the boy wasn't talking about being possessed, he refused to hear the none-too-subtle flirtation.

"Whatever ya say, mate." They'd reached the crypt while talking, and Spike had never been quite as glad to see his gloomy home. He opened the door and walked in, not bothering to let his 'guest' go first. "The recliner's mine, you get ta choose tween the floor an one o'them crates. Think there's a coupla beers left."

He rummaged through his make-shift kitchen and grabbed two bottles, then popped in "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes". It wasn't the most intellectually stimulating flik ever made, but it was better than most of the mass produced 70s hair-raiser movies. For the next 90 minutes, they sipped beer, nibbled on pretzels, and snickered at the stupid people running from produce.

"Hey Spike," Xander's quiet voice broke the comfortable silence as the credits rolled across the screen. "Can I ask ya something?"

A deep breath told him very little beyond what he already knew: Harris was nervous but not mortally frightened. With a mental shrug, "Might as well, yeh? You've been bursting ta ask all night."

"Yeah..." He looked down at his bottle, fingers absently picking at the label. "Just wanted to know... what's it like?"

"Eh, what's what like?" Spike was pretty much lost, although he had a tiny hint...

"You know... sex... with a guy." If blushes made sounds, Xander's could easily have reached 15 decibels.

And yes, there it was. He wanted to scare the curiosity outa the kid, really he did. And with his far distant memories there wouldn't be much of a problem doing that. One look at the boy's face, however, and he hesitated. It was open and... trusting? As if Spike could provide answers to the Big Questions of the world. And if nothing else, this line of conversation explained a bit about why the boy'd broken up with Anyanka last month.

"Dunno what ta tell ya, mate. S'pose it could be just as good as with a bird, yeh? Jus depends on who yer with and how much they care about makin it good for ya." He shifted in his chair, turning to face the boy. "Why come to me askin things like this, Harris? Why not ol' Rupert, or one o'yer..." The little light, it came on. "Sides me and Rupes, all yer friends are girls."

Face down, Xander nodded around his pinkened cheeks. "Yeah, and Giles is too much like a dad. It just wouldn't feel right to talk with him about... you know, not guy stuff, but guy stuff."

Spike leaned back, slouching deep into his recliner. He wished he'd thought to keep at least one of those bottles of fine whiskey for occasions such as this. Still, the boy'd come to him -- there had to be something he could say. Almost before that thought finished, another trampled it down. _I'm a demon! Not his soddin mate, some wet-behind-the-ears nancy boy still in short pants. Why should I hafta be all nice about it._

Then a scent memory hit him at last, and the tumblers fell into place. The only people who knew when he was injured at night were the Slayer and her friends. The single one of them who might know about his craving for heat was this fella, sitting in front of him all trembly and nervous. Same one who'd fixed up his tele too, if the smell of him could be believed. All week, this mousy mortal had been leaving him gifts, and now he was asking about... 

"Harris, I dunno where ya got yer barmy ideas from, but I only do women, yeh?" He stood and began to pace the room, waving his arms for emphasis. "Daft bugger, thinkin y'could have yer way with me after a few trinkets. 'M not a kept vamp, mate! Not that I don't 'ppreciate the thought n'all, but..." Fingers combed through clumps of hair, forcing total chaos on the stiff mass. Finally, his eyes raised and caught Xander's, piercing him in place. "Never rolled over for Angelus, nor any other. Not gonna start now, not for you or anyone else. Got that?"

Xander's face fell in slow motion, as each word forced another spike through his chest. With more grace than his norm, he stood and walked a few feet toward the door before turning back. The silvery light from the TV glistened across two wet tracks on his face. "I-I'm so sorry, Spike... but don't worry, won't bother you again. I thought, maybe... but no, you're right. Barmy idea."

Between the soft, dejected words and the unbearably sad expression on the boy's face, Spike couldn't stand himself. He took three long strides and beat Xander to the door, blocking the one exit. "Harris, wait." And with that, his downfall arrived in the form of two watery brown eyes, meeting his worried gaze but flinching away too soon. The bitter taste of never being good enough was a flavor that couldn't be drowned by an ocean of alcohol -- Spike knew it all too well, from Cecily to Dru to Buffy. That he had inflicted the same thing on this mortal, who had only been generous and kind to him in recent months... it settled like a lump of dung in his belly.

His hand reached up to push the boy's sloppy mop of hair away from his face, and he almost smiled when Harris pressed against his cool fingers. A century's worth of refusing to experiment came crashing down around him by one barely-legal human and his soft sigh, lowering his head and tilting his neck in the most natural act of... not submission, not from this boy, but maybe acceptance. Of who and what Spike was.

Xander stayed as still as possible, only moving against those wonderfully cool fingers to memorize their texture and weight and... A part of him knew how thin the ice was in these parts, but he had to try. Slow so slow, he opened his eyes and raised them to find Spike's staring back at him. He tried so hard not to let out the pouty lower lip that so desperately wanted to surface, to not beg or whine or generally be a pest. He kept his eyes fixated, a little nod of understanding. What more could he do?

_Feckin hell, that look works better on him than it ever did for Dru! Makes me wanna... hold'em, comfort an kiss an protect, an how dotty is that? But hell, his lips look so soft._

What little distance was between them faded into nothing as Spike leaned forward and gently pressed his mouth to Xander's. 

_Whatinhell am I doin?! An where'd the boy learn ta kiss like this? Oh feck, if he's got half a brain he'll be able ta wrap me round his little finger in no time._

Xander moaned softly as his lips parted, letting the least little bit of his tongue touch Spike's lower lip. He wasn't pushed away or scolded or any one of a thousand dismal scenarios, so he tried again with more pressure. Spike didn't seem to complain, unless that deep purr was actually a growl, in which case Xander needed to make a hasty retreat. To Kenya. He opened one eye to get visual confirmation and was distracted by the torn expression on the blond's face. Pain and pleasure might be a spicy combination for demons, but this wasn't the good kind of pain. It looked like Spike's unbeating heart was ready to explode, and Xander was to blame. He pulled back, ducking his head and leaning fully against the wall.

"Sorry, you said no. I know what that means, so I don't have an excuse."

One gold-rimmed blue eye opened to focus on the speaker, but it took Spike a few deep breaths before he could respond in any coherent way. "Guess ya forgot who kissed who." The boy's head raised so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. "Yeh, gotcher attention then, good." He paused to actually think about what he wanted to say, hoping not to traumatize the boy. "Dunno how much ya want, dunno how much I can give, so jus... slow, yeh?"

There was a word for the look on Xander's face: gobsmacked. He gulped air and then coughed around the tightness in his throat. "Sure, slow. I don't really have a clue how this works anyway, sorta hoping you'd teach me but... Books! Giles and Willow swear by books. There's gotta be an instruction manual somewhere for this sort of thing, right?"

"Ssh! Careful there, mate, yer likely ta hurt yerself." Spike didn't want to take his fingers out of the boy's wonderfully soft hair, stroking it like he'd so often done with his Dark Princess. "Let's jus see where this takes us 'fore ya get all panicky."

"Yeah, panic bad," Xander mumbled into his own shoulder, then decided that Spike's looked more comfortable. Leaning forward to nuzzle against the soft t-shirt stretching across the blond's chest, Xander's body finally lost the tension that had held him upright. He folded against Spike's sturdy frame, wrapping his arms up around the blond's neck. 

Blessed warmth soaked into Spike's body from knees to head, everywhere that Xander touched him was like a heating pad, hot water bottle, sauna... all rolled into one. Inside his mind, he admitted to more than a little fear of where this would eventually lead; but this -- holding and being held -- this he could do. 

 

****

  
__

__

Three Months Later

"Hi honey, I'm home!"

Spike rolled his eyes even as he vaulted out of his brand new recliner to meet Xander at the front door. And a good thing he did, too. Bags and boxes spilled out of his boy's arms, tumbling to the floor and spilling groceries left and right. He took as many as Xander would release and went downstairs to the kitchen, letting his lovely collect what he'd dropped.

He smirked at himself every time he recalled how... unnerved he'd been about starting a relationship with Xander. Or with any man. That they had yet to have actual penetrative sex didn't seem to bother his Xan, but it was something Spike thought about. An awful lot.

On the upside, his crypt was no longer a cold stone mausoleum. Or no longer _just_ a cold stone mausoleum. Xander was handy with quite a few tools (pun happily intended, and frequently tested), and had turned the moldy tomb into a comfortable home. They now had a real bathroom -- silly mortals still needed that sort of thing -- and a working, if tiny, kitchen. There were even locks on the entrances, with real keys that Xander had proudly handed to him on a shiny new keychain that read "My bite is worse than my bark". And ever since that last terrible, terrifying row with his folks, Xander was a full time resident. Spike hadn't realized how very lonely he was until his boy's laughter filled in the empty spots.

Mechanically stowing away the groceries, his mind roamed through all the recent little changes in his life. 

He grinned, remembering how Buffy and Willow had found out about them, caught them snogging back behind the Magic Box after patrol one night. It took a few weeks for either girl to be in the same room with them without blushing, gaping, or stammering apologies. Ah, good times. 

The night they'd first slept in his bed -- just slept, wrapped in each other's arms. He'd been ... nervous. Not scared like some tot in nappies. Just... nervous. Worried about how much his boy wanted from him, how far he'd try to push things. How deep he'd be imbedded in Spike's heart. Spike could spin tall tales with the best, but he never managed to lie to himself -- admitting that Xander would receive anything he wanted was a huge step, and one that still sent chills down his spine. But waking up with his warm, caring, cuddly Xander wrapped around him... now _that_ was something he never wanted to give up.

That first day at Xander's new job, how scared his boy was. All the fixups around the crypt had convinced Spike that his lovely should work with his hands somewhere, not in a meaningless stream of fast food nightmares. He'd asked around and arranged for a paid apprenticeship with one of the high end renovation firms in town, and Xander had fell into it like he'd been born to the task. He'd bounced through the door an hour before sundown, hardly remembering to breathe as he babbled out every minor detail of his day. The glow of pride in his own potential made him twice as appealing to Spike, forcing him to acknowledge that not only _could_ he want this boy, this man, but that he already _did_. That night was the first time they'd brought each other to climax, using soft words and tender kisses, and utterly clumsy hands that still sent shivers of ecstacy with every touch.

Strong arms still warm from the afternoon sun circled his waist, the barest whisper of facial hair tickling his neck, dragging Spike from his pleasant memories.

"Hello luv, welcome home." Every single time their lips met, Spike felt the electricity jolt through his body... almost as if seeking his long lost soul. He purred against his boy's mouth, nipping and lapping his way across that lovely cupid's bow inch by inch. Only after insuring that Xander was thoroughly dizzy from lack of oxygen and pure sensual sensations did he step back to grin at the breathless mortal.

"Wow." Deep gulps of air. "Every day, always wow."

"Mmm, y'know, I like ya like this, Xan." He nuzzled under a tender earlobe, tracing the invisible veins with his tongue.

"Like what?" Xander asked, still panting. "Oxygen deprivation gets you off or something? Cus that's a little piece of info I coulda used by now."

Spike chuckled and bit high on his boy's neck, not hard enough to break skin, but to make sure Xander would feel it for hours. "Nah. Like ta see ya swoon for me."

"Hey! So not a chick, Spike. Swooning is _not_ manly! No swooning for-"

Silence achieved by resuming their kiss, Spike worked to prove his point. Within minutes, Xander did indeed swoon. Unfocused brown eyes opened to see the full Big Bad Smirk, but all he could muster was a besotted smile of his own.

He reached up and cupped one sharp cheekbone, then began to nibble on his lower lip nervously. He had no idea how his idea would pan out, but dammit, there was only so much UST he could handle. "Picked up a thing or two on my lunch hour, thought we might try them tonight."

"Hmm? Whatcha get, luv?"

"Oh god, Spike, you know it's impossible for me to think when you're doing that tongue thing on my neck."

"Yeh, s'why I do it."

He had a mission. Somewhere in the back of his muddied brain, he remembered what that mission was. This was no way to accomplish said mission. Gently pushing Spike away from his neck, he took a deep breath and gathered his courage.

"I know we've been taking things slow, and that's great! This is so much better than I'd ever hoped for, you and me, y'know? But maybe, if you're ready, cus I'm sure ready, then we're both ready and we can try the next step, like tonight, cus I found what we'll need and embarrassed myself completely at Sunnyhell's one-and-only sex shop, but they had everything and I had to hide the bag from Stan and Teddy, you know how they love to tease about us, but they aren't here and we don't patrol tonight and-"

"Hush, luv, y'gotta breathe once in awhile, remember?" His words were soft and caring, but inside Spike felt his stomach clench. He'd hoped to put it off as long as possible, but he wouldn't be able to deny Xander without hurting the boy. And that was something he just couldn't make himself do. "Let's see whatcha found."

Two bounces from kitchen to bed, where Xander had tossed the plain brown bag of adult novelties. "Plenty of lube, and they have it in every flavor you can imagine! And a couple different sizes of... plugs, to get used to the stretching and stuff. Didn't figure we'd need condoms, but there's a 3-pack here just in case. And the clerk threw in this _cough_ ring thing, fits over, you know, to keep..."

"Relax, Xan, I getcha," Spike chuckled past his nerves. As scar- no, intimidated as he was about the prospect of anal sex, he cared too much for his lovely not to try. Eyeing the assorted sexual aids on their bed, he pulled his shirt over his head and started on the buttons of his fly.

"Woah, you must be as excited as I am! Here, let me help, it's part of the fun." Xander wiggled his eyebrows, fumbling for the blond's pants. It didn't take long before the happy puppy face morphed into worry -- for all his cooperation, Spike's spike was far from interested. "What's the matter, Spike? Am I doing something wrong?"

He couldn't stand seeing his boy sad, doubly so when it was his own fault. "Luv, told ya way back, not done this before. Dunno how it'll work, not 'tween you an me, but because of me." The total confusion on Xander's face made him feel even worse.

Xander took each of Spike's hands in his own, pulling them both to sit on the side of the bed. "Spike, I'm not sure if we're talking about the same thing here."

"Ta steal one a yer phrases: huh?"

"Alright, let's do it this way." Blushing furiously, Xander forced his eyes to hold his lover's. "Would you tell me what you're nervous about, please?" And it was just so wrong when a Master vampire lost a staring contest. Spike ducked his head, then quickly turned it away from the bed... as if seeing the sex toys made everything so much worse for him. "Spike, please, you gotta talk to me."

Shaking his head did little to ease the fuzzy feel to his thoughts, but it did make him look up again. "Don't think I can do it, Xan."

Such a... diminished voice should never come from his cocksure lover. Xander frowned, nibbled his lip, worried his thumb along Spike's knuckles, and finally asked, "What exactly do you think we're going to do?"

Now he knew there were times when he wasn't the quickest car on the track, but Spike couldn't recall losing his place in the conversation. Slowly, as if speaking to a small child, he spelled it out, "Xander, we were talkin bout anal sex."

A careful nod, Xander looked thoughtful. "Yeah, that's what we're discussing. Wanna be more specific?" He got a slow blink from his confused vamp. "Alrighty then _cough_ which of us do you think is going to... play catcher?" The expression on Spike's face said it all, and suddenly Xander understood. Time for the big guns -- pouting would be less effective in this instance, so let's go with humor. "Spike, if you don't want step up to the plate, don't worry about it. What we've done so far is great, wonderful, marvelous, fanfuckintabuloso! I just thought, maybe, you might want to _cough_ be inside. Me. Inside me. And god, just saying it..."

As often happened, Spike's eyes glazed over when his darling boy started babbling. But something caught his attention, and kept it. And made him feel like a complete idiot.

"Ya really want me, like that, luv?" He had to know for sure. "Want me to spread ya open and make ya squirm, feed every inch o'me cock into yer lovely bum?" The heartfelt (and 110% erotic) moan was answer enough. Not only that, Spike acknowledged a new kink for his boy -- talking dirty.

"Uh huh, that okay with you?" So breathless, eyes fully dilated.

Stroking along Xander's chest, Spike reveled in the effect his words had on his boy. "Yeh, perfectly alright with me, Xan. Don't think I can take bein..." he shivered, "on bottom, not yet, maybe not ever. But yeh, wanna feel how hot an tight you are for me. Gonna strangle me, aintcha luv? Suck me in deep, choke every last bit o'cum outa me. Sound good to you, lovely?"

"God, Spike, sounds perfect!" Catlike, Xander slithered the small distance between them, climbing onto his lover's lap and rubbing every bit of their bodies together. 

That was what he needed to hear. Given the green light, Spike set about lavishing his beauty with adoring touches and intoxicating lips and tongue, delighting in each breathy moan his darling boy made. Their clothes ended up scattered across the room, some shredded beyond repair, but the various purchases Xander had brought home were treated with reverence. Only after he'd reduced the boy to a puddle of arousal did Spike take a good look at the assorted toys.

"Now which one should we use first, hmm?" He noticed that all of the items had been removed from their original packaging and washed. "Bit anxious to play, weren't ya. Betcha even thought bout stoppin on the way home an gettin ready, all slick an open, slide this lil purple devil up inside... Can see it, luv, you makin yerself ready for me like that."

"Spike, please," Xander begged, loving and hating how the blond could reduce him to pleas so quickly.

Grabbing the unscented lubricant, he squeezed a decent amount into his palm. "Patience, luv. We'll get to the good part soon." Spike opened his mouth to tell his lover to spread his legs, but Xander beat him to it. "Jus look atcha, such an eager boy! Now lift yer legs up, hold'em behind yer knees and stay just like that. Oh so lovely, Xan, can see yer tight lil hole winkin at me already." The words provoked the action, and Spike laughed softly. "Love seein ya like this, gonna love bein inside even more."

Xander groaned deep in his throat. "Want that, Spike, so much." His hands firmly locked behind his knees, as instructed, he pulled until the tops of his thighs met his chest, lifting his ass cheeks off the bed. Spike pushed a pillow under him, lowering his face to lick from the soft skin behind his balls all the way up to his cock head. "Oh shit, keep that up and it'll be over way soon."

All his standard cockiness seemed to vanish. Most vampires weren't equipped for the softer emotions, but Spike had never been a normal vampire -- he could love, care, grow, change. And that he had grown to care deeply about this mortal boy, well, it left him confused and worried that he might not do right by his Xan.

Slowly dragging one slick finger down across Xander's perineum to circle his pink hole, Spike reeled at the waves of heat and arousal coming off his boy. Whatever personal problems he might have, it was obvious that Xander didn't share the same concerns.

With just the tip, he pushed through the first barrier muscle. He wanted to press further in, but held back... until there was no need, since Xander arched down onto the invading digit with a loud moan of approval. "Damn, feels so good, gonna feel even better when it's your dick. Don't make me wait, Spike. Want you."

And wasn't that what it all came down to? Xander wanted Spike, in a way that he'd never truly been wanted before. If his darling boy wished to have himself impaled on Spike's cock, then that's what he would get.

He wiggled his finger, pressing in, pulling out, circling inside to loosen the muscles that held him so tightly. Before long he could get a second inside, then a third. Xander's body opened to accept everything he wanted to offer, and Spike's patience ended with a snap. He used the rest of his palmful of slick to grease up his prick, then knelt between his darling's wide open legs.

"Gonna take ya now, Xan. Push my way inside and make ya see stars, yeh?" The dripping tip lightly kissed Xander's hole, bringing gasps of pleasure from both men. "Ya ready for me, luv? Don't wanna wait either, feels like we waited too long already."

Eyes full of trust and... love met his, and Xander did something that caused his ass to practically suck Spike the first inch in. "Way past ready. Do it, Spike, fuck me."

Careful of his lover's fragile (non-demon) body, Spike eased in bit by bit, his mind running through the most nauseating images it could find to keep himself from the edge of orgasm. He thrust in an inch, held for a few seconds, then repeated the cycle until his balls swung against the smooth skin of Xander's buttocks.

Xander's eyes widened as he realized that he held all of Spike inside his body. It was a heady experience, knowing how much power he held over his formidable lover just then, where his every movement would incite the most exquisite pleasures. He let out a long breath that he hardly remembered taking, and his body _relaxed_ , settling Spike the barest centimetre further and making that wonderful length brush against something electric. It was so intense, he lost his hold on both legs, but Spike kept him steady, placing them across his shoulders as he withdrew.

Spike's gameface rippled into play, and Xander felt a different sort of shiver pass through him. He wasn't afraid of his lover, not at all, but he did hold a high amount of awe for the sheer power and terrifying beauty of his demonic side. The fact that Spike lost control so soon into their lovemaking warmed him -- he, Xander Harris, the oddball, the Zeppo, _**he**_ did that to William the Bloody.

Setting a smooth pace, Spike forced himself not to rush their climb to ecstasy. If he remembered his boy's shy confessions, Xander had only kissed another male prior to their relationship. Meaning that this was his first time every bit as much as it was Spike's. First times, he decided, left a lasting impression. One he didn't want to muck up with his usual impatience.

"Spike, god Spike, so good! Never knew it would feel like this, like you're a part of me. Wanna remember this for a long time, please."

"Whatcha mean, luv?"

Refocusing, Xander waited til Spike looked into his eyes. "It means that I want to feel this, what we're doing, I want to feel and remember every minute of it, for longer than a day or so." He pulled the blond down for a long kiss, then finished his request, "It means that... don't be gentle, alright? Don't want to bleed or anything, at least not this time, but I want to _feel_ it. Does that make sense?"

"Makes perfect sense to me, luv, but then I'm a demon. But yeh, I'll make sure ya remember this."

Xander's body collapsed into a limp pile on the bed; he reached up to the sturdy headboard and threaded his wrists into place. His hands were, for all intents and purposes, stuck where he put them. Perfect.

Whispers of passion melted together with stronger cries of pure sensation. Xander figured out what caused the delicious burst of power, and directed Spike to aim for the little bundle of nerves. Some functioning part of Spike's brain informed him that the bed was rather high up, and that if he turned them just a bit to the left, he could stand up and have better leverage. Such a fine idea deserved acknowledgement, which he gave by bellowing out a primal growl. 

The new angle kept Xander's body on fire, and he knew it wouldn't be long. He reached up to stroke Spike's cheek, down his neck and across his chest, luring his highly sensitive lover into a long kiss. The additional friction of Spike's belly fuzz against his throbbing cock had Xander catapulting over the edge in no time. His muscles clamped down, pulling Spike to empty himself deep inside.

They shuddered and shook for long minutes, gently stroking each other, kissing, and maintaining the most tangible contact between them. Only after Spike's spent prick slipped out of his hole did Xander relax his legs. He threw himself into a hard stretch, blatantly rubbing his body against Spike's.

A cursory cleanup later, they curled up under the light blankets (that hadn't been relegated to the laundry pile) and talked quietly before sleep claimed them.

~ * ~

As he watched the satisfied smirk on his lover's face even out into the more innocent lines of deep sleep, Xander thought back on the last three months.

It had been a calculated risk really, courting a Master vampire. He snickered quietly remembering the ridiculously complex rituals and ceremonies from the Watchers diaries -- nothing could be farther from the truth, but maybe that was the point. Years of careful half truths had convinced the most (collectively) intelligent organization in the world that vampires expected pomp and circumstance in their everyday lives. The simple fact was that, however smart or canny they were, vampires just didn't care to maintain a commitment like humans -- and many varieties of demon -- were prone to do. 

Naturally, there were always exceptions to the rule. He was lying beside the biggest exception. And so what if he was smiling so hard he might end up with facial cramps. He deserved it! And by god, he was going to relish each and every moment of his victory over rampant heterosexuality. Because, it didn't take a genius (or vengeance demon) to do something so profound. Just the right amount of inside information, good timing, and a little bit of luck. 

As his eyelids closed, Xander sent up a word of thanks to a special demon, one with blunt language and worldly innocence that never ceased to fascinate him. His ex-girlfriend might dislike men in principle, but when she cared she went all out. Her advice was worth more than he could ever repay.

"G'night, Ahn, and thanks. Hope you're enjoying this, you voyeuristic slag... but you better let me know if you want to drop in someday. No unexpected and _cough_ unplanned visits while we're having sex, okay? And Ahn... don't be a stranger."

_End_

**Author's Note:**

> A long while back, nash made a comment or two about a Xander/William idea... and she ended up having to write it for herself *lol*. As one of the many who encouraged the idea, I offered a *cough* bribe to write a little something for her if she managed it. And well, she did. Beautifully! (Check out The Usurper here.) So here it is, sweetie. Hope it meets with your approval.
> 
>  
> 
> nashmaveric's request:  
> Oh yay! Let's see now....Spander, natch...NC-17, of course...Xander being the pursuer for once and Spike not being sure about the whole thing. But obviously he gives in. Cause...Xander! Hot! ::grins and bounces:: Fic! I get fic! Woot!


End file.
